


You gotta go through me

by Kat2107



Series: The Bull and his Duckling [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bull might be in over his head, Dorian is an idiot, Krem is a meddling mother hen, M/M, Maevaris is the queen of everything, Unintended trans awkwardness, and also a meddling mother hen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat2107/pseuds/Kat2107
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People worry about everybody's favorite hothouse orchid. They like him, Krem gets it.<br/>Well, he likes Bull. And someone needs to be in the big idiot's corner. Right?<br/>That´s what friends are for. </p><p>There are two 'Vints in the inquisition. They´re not actually destined to get along.<br/>If it weren´t for Bull....</p>
            </blockquote>





	You gotta go through me

**Author's Note:**

> Working title: "If you wanna date my sister (who might or might not be that huge Qunari merc over there)"
> 
> Dorian can be a handful and when he gets close to someone he´s not exactly a wilting flower or especially careful with them.  
> People headcanon (and not unreasonably) that the Inqui and Cullen will look after Dorian.  
> But who looks after Bull? 
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to Daria, who is an absolutely awesome beta reader.  
> And as soon as I manage to find her AO3 profile again, I will link it properly. Because I´m an idiot and my head is a mess :)

Dorian Pavus, of the most noble house of Pavus…

Tall, perfectly built, beautiful, with an aura of arrogance that a man just could not fake. Born and bred noble. Bred, first of all.

A nice Tevinter stud, one many families would have loved to breed their daughters to.

So perfect from the outside.

And then he went and joined the enemies of Tevinter and hooked up with a Qunari of all creatures.

The man on the battlements took a deep and very honest sense of satisfaction from that. Imperfection.

It might endear the mage to him. If not for the inborn aura of condescending arrogance towards all the minor men that littered the earth.

Intellectually he knew he was being unfair. He knew, the Inquisitor would never tolerate Dorian if he treated others badly.

He knew, Bull would never hook up with him… see and there was the problem. Bull might just do that. Just for fun. Enjoy what was given freely, then go and part ways. No harm, no foul. If only some people weren't always taking more than was their share.

Two days prior, as the Inquisitor, the Seeker, Bull and the elven mage had gone off to the Hinterlands, simple retrieval, nothing major, she had fussed about the Tevinter mage almost as much as she usually did about Cullen.

People fussed over Dorian, hothouse orchid, brave mage, a bit prickly maybe.

Nobody fussed about The Iron Bull.

He was tough and strong and loud and boisterous. Bull hurt. He wasn't hurt.

Everybody needed someone on their side who stepped in when shit went down and you ended up on a Tavern floor hoping it just stopped hurting.

So, him and the Chargers were it. That should scare people enough to watch where they went and who they threaded on.

 

***

 

When it happened, it wasn't unexpected. Truth be told, Dorian had waited for something like that for a while now.

The more the inquisition grew, the more Orlaisien nobles, chantry members, and Templars it attracted, the closer the scrutiny on him. Dorian was nothing if not the easiest mark.

Tevinter. Mage.

Of course, he would have loved to not be a mark at all. But in the end, it better be him than any of the Inquisitor's other misfits.

People might show some restraint to harass an Altus’ son. They might not with a spirit or a Qunari.

That thread of reasoning, of course, was not something he was prone to promote.

His fondness of the Qunari, on top of what the Bull had already blurted out to all the world, was a dangerous weakness. In the long run, even if the core group would not use it against him, all the others that inhabited Skyhold, Mother Giselle came to mind rather prominently, would without hesitation.

So, he thought as he slowly turned the letter - penned in precise and regular script - in his hands, what was there to do but deal with whoever invited him to the battlements in the deep of night, accidentally just as the inquisitor was off to places warmer and much wetter.

“I invite you” it said “to discuss a matter of mutual interest” Which usually meant either betrayal, which would be swiftly dealt with on his part, or blackmail, which would be dealt with just as swiftly.

His loyalty was a weakness. One Dorian did not plan to divulge to anyone. A lack of decisiveness to deal with arising problems though was not, curtesy of his Altus upbringing.

And accidentally just something people who only saw the peacock and were blinded by his charm and beauty – and humility – he chuckled as he dropped the letter and slid a slim knife into his left sleeve, were only too prone to forget.

For whatever it was worth, people seemed just too preoccupied with outward appearances to find enough of their brains for long enough to understand that a man running alone in front of an approaching army of mages was not exactly weak willed.

Their loss.

As was their perpetual assumption Dorian's loyalty was fluid.

It wasn't, it never had been.

But then… He was nobody's teacher to school them on their misconceptions before they failed the test.

 

***

 

“Soporati” Supple leather, brocade silk and heavy linen. Krem eyed the robe, noticing with faint amusement how much Dorian was dressed to impress.

“Altus”

They faced each other. Silent. Appraising. Waiting.

“What exactly are we doing here in the dead of night when we could be instead laying in our beds for once and catching up on sleep?” Dorian Pavus, Krem had to grant him that, managed to sound bored, shallow and just the right kind of expensive cheap, yet underneath, there was enough ice to warn him not to make a wrong step.

It was a good enough opening.

“So...you and the chief, huh?”

The Altus twitched, but, to his credit, barely missed a step, only pulled his shoulders a fraction tighter, lifted his chin a notch.

“Obviously, yes. Since the lumox can't seem to keep anything to himself.. and you'd think, he of all people….” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Denial seems a rather useless endeavour.” His gaze flickered to the left, to where Krem was standing, enjoying the touch of discomfort the other Tevinter couldn't keep out of his voice, how defensive he sounded, as he added “And what business is it of yours?”

Two ‘Vints were part of the Inquisition and they could not be more different. One a deserter, born low class, marked a traitor because he couldn't not be what he was inside. The other a magister’s son, coddled, dressed in finest silks, all the world open to him. Not for the first time, Krem wondered what the mage was doing here... and with Bull of all people.

Especially since he seemed embarrassed and  ashamed of whatever they were doing.

“The Bull is my boss. And my friend. I owe him a thing or two. A life and an eye among them. He gave it up when he threw himself between me and a Tevinter soldier’s flail. You know enough about me, I think, to know why they tried to....”

Krem gently rested his plate clad shoulder against the rail, provoking the hard sound as metal and stone met and slowly, as if making a point, drew a finger across his throat. It was a matter of satisfaction that Dorian Pavus, Altus, took half a step back to align himself with one of the raised parts of the railing. The waist high crenel was easy to overcome, should one want to push another person over, really.

“See, Altus..” Krem’s hand moved to encompass all the marvelous walls around them.

“All these people like you. You are charming, well mannered, good looking. Bull is neither. Just a Tal’Vashoth now. An ugly bastard of a Qunari, loud and a bit abrasive if he puts his mind to it. But he's also the man who puts himself between a stranger and a flail. The one who always makes sure, others aren't hurt.”

Pavus watched him intently, dark eyes narrowed, face carefully neutral and the fact that there was no reaction whatsoever had Krem go on.

“I really don't think you should go after him, if it shames you so to be associated with him.  He will go along. He will make sure you both have fun, but believe me, he doesn't deserve to just be used as some exotic… adornment. Something to fulfill your curiosity with. This is not Tevinter and I won’t…”

“I don't care what you won’t.” As Dorian Pavus interrupted, each word was coated in ice, a silent menace very much unlike his usual demeanor. “I don't give a damn about your opinion of what is or is not becoming between me and him. If I wanted anybody's judgmental opinion, I’d talk to Mother Giselle.”

The way Dorian smacked his lips was more than just simple displeasure, his eyes sparked with anger and the flush on his cheekbones was not just the cold wind.

“Fasta Vass! I do not use him as an adornment! You might not have noticed, it was him who blabbed to all the world about what we do. Is it true I was not very happy about that? Yes. Because it is private. What we do is private. And you of all people should not judge if he wants to share his bed with a man.”

“That is not…” Krem tried to interject, only to be ignored.

“And I can assure you I don't plan to abscond with his virtue, for whatever that is worth. And I don't plan to sully him with my indecent presence, thank you very much. And if I did, again, it was private and none..”

“That is not-”

“...of your business.”

As they stared at each other, something dawned on Krem, something different.

“May I ask you something, Pavus?”

Shoulders back, chin up, aura of arrogance pulled like a warm cloak around a naked shoulder dotted in goosebumps. He was more than just cold. Krem had watched him rub his arms and subtly stub his feet for minutes now.

How a man so prone to freezing - yes, Bull was a tattle tale- ran around with that much skin bared was beyond him.

Those clothes were not worn for comfort. It was probably the best he had.

And judging by who he was, it was not likely to be pure vanity. A deliberate show of his heritage, his social standing, a deflection of personality.

Armor.

“For all it's worth, please do.” Dorian’s voice dripped with impatience, with anger barely contained.

Tevinter was a barrel of snakes for everybody, but especially those who did not fit the generally accepted public image. ‘Vints looked down on the southern countries, for the way they treated mages, for their lack of freedom, yet….

“Did you know, Bull has problems with his left foot?” Dorian paused, intrigue tugging at his features that almost had Krem smiling. It was so easy a trick, yet there he was - Dorian Pavus, the man, not the dressed up peacock. So Krem went on. He wanted to know who this person was besides a snotty mage from Tevinter and a boat load of problems. “His ankle is messed up. He never mentions it, but that's why the plate doesn’t  just cover his foot and instead runs all the way around. Most of the time he´s fine, but when it's cold he can be in considerable pain.” Krem snorted into the dark silence between them. “Not that he'd ever let on to anybody.”

Dorian Pavus did not answer for quite a while.When he did, his tone was careful, almost thoughtful.

“Why are you telling me this? I'm not his nursemaid.” He seemed to look for something on the face of the man opposite him. “Granted, I'd be a horrible nursemaid.”

“Can you go back to Tevinter, Pavus? Return to the circle of your family? Without being killed, enslaved or tortured to death?”

Eyes met and Dorian Pavus, of the most noble house of Pavus, sighed deeply. “Yes. For all that it's worth. Perhaps, if… it's not that easy.” He looked away before eyeing Krem up and down. “Easier, perhaps, than for you, though.”

“My parents have been enslaved since my father couldn't pay his debts anymore, and I could not help them. I couldn't have helped them, even had they not shunned me.” Krem didn´t dabble in self-pity. It was a fact. They didn´t want him and when they needed him most, he hadn´t been there to help. “That big ox and the chargers are all I have. Family, if you want to call it that. So, of course, the Inquisitor likes the Bull, too. But does she get him? Does she understand how much of an honest need it is for him to take care of other people? To put their well being before his own? Do you?” He waited for an answer. None came, but the mage’s flushed face, the discomfort had Krem hope, he had already noted and understood what deep down made up the core of Bull’s heart and seen the danger. “I swear, Pavus, if you hurt him, I will come after you, Altus or not. I survived the Imperium’s army and have killed enough mages to know how to get past all your fancy fireworks. I promise.”

Krem did not expect the mage’s face to go soft, the hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Strange.. just for a moment there you reminded  me of a friend of mine… Splendid woman…” The mage’s eyes snapped up, realizing the danger in his words.

“Not that i was insinuating… Oh forget what I said.” He was flustered. It was endearing and suddenly Krem saw, what Bull did, as for a moment the colorful veneer fell and the man beneath magic and arrogance shone through.

“A ‘friend’, huh?”

“No, not like…” The nervous laugh, the way to corrected his cuffs. “Yes, well. No. Not ‘a friend’. A friend, who helped me out once, tw….”

Krem laughed.

“Ah Fasta Vass. Shut up you moron.”

“I see.” And he saw. Below all that bluster was a man, a man who carefully hid everything under a public image. Who hid Bull, women who were nothing but friends under a carefully applied public image, to be scrutinized by stalwart and good people like mother Giselle for all his despicable Tevinter ways.

“No Women?” Krem asked and it made Dorian flinch “I see how that might be a problem.”

The mage paused, turned his head to stare at the Charger’s Lieutenant. “Are you pitying me, Aclassi?” His moustache quivered as his lips pursed in indignation. “Please, be informed I don't need pity, especially not from you.” He paused again. “Which is not to say…” He paused “Ah, be damned.”

Dorian Pavus, where most men would have shrunk away, or at least would have covered a perceived blunder with an even worse joke, pulled back his shoulders, lifted his chin and looked down upon Krem with all inborn regality that was his. “I am not to be pitied by a man who thinks proper civilian clothing is a smelly piece of padded whatever that is…”

“A Gambeson” Krem, helpfully supplied.

“...and a monstrosity of leather and metal, Soporati. I will not have it.”

“It's warm.” Krem eyed Dorian's bare shoulder with a snort. “I am very sure, that makes me more sensible and more dressed to the occasion than you right now.”

“I was expecting to having to deal with more political machinations. Not a concerned mother hen.”

Their eyes met and this time both their faces pulled into a smile, as faint as it might be.

“He feels more strongly than he lets on. He's one of those people who always take a backseat to others and while we're being honest, Pavus, you are one of those persons who tend to take when others give and not spend a second thought.” Krem let him see the truth behind his words for a moment, the worry and the care. “And after the thing with the dreadnoughts….”

“I am not his nursemaid.”

“But you are not as bad a person as you let everybody believe.”

Dorian laughed. “Oh, don't be mistaken, I am just as selfish and vain as everybody thinks I am.”

“Sure you are. You are also freezing. I don't think the chief would approve of you with a cold.”

Indignation showed and fled the mages faces just as quickly.

“None of that is your business. None of it..”

“Tell me, Altus. Do you honestly believe their worship or their worship’s commander did not yet carefully implore the Bull’s intentions with you? What makes you think, that big idiot deserves less care or worry?”

“They didn’t…” It was a doubtful honor, Krem thought, to be probably the only person in Skyhold to have driven Dorian Pavus into shocked silence. He looked stupid with his mouth all agape. And funny. Funny enough to be kept in a secret corner of a soldier’s mind for long cold winter nights. Until he did his trick with pulling back his shoulders, raising his chin again, which now looked more like a figurative peacock smoothing ruffled feathers than ever. It was commendable how fast he put on his face of noble indignation.

“Whatever the Inquisitor does with her spare time is not anyone’s business. Nosily as it might be spent. Indeed though, I have books to read, independent of meddling mothers who try and get my attention for late night meetings on the battlements. As flattering as that is.” A curt nod. “Good night, Soporati.”

“Good night, Dorian.”

The mage was already turning to walk away, but stopped for a narrow eyed glance over his shoulder.

Krem grinned.

  
***

“Dearest Maevaris,

 

aside from the blasted snow, the cold and the rain that seems to permeate everything, I have met some rather delightful characters. Another Tevinter among them. You'd love him, a very hearty Soporati mercenary. His love for beer is disgusting. Or maybe it's just the fact that the choice of vine here is between “Some red stuff and some white stuff.” 

You do not just happen to know a tailor skilled in special designs?

I am sure, you do. I might feel the need to ask you for a favor….”

 

***

 

“Krem?”

“Chief”

“Why did Dorian, and if you tell him that I will have your shaggy ‘Vint’s hide, insist on a bath and a massage for my feet last night?”

“I don't know chief. He's your Vint, not mine. I'm sure, you know more about that Altus than I do. And if he likes your feet… well there must be something about you, he likes, right?”

“Right….”

“So, how is the ankle? I know, Stormcoast can be tough.”

  
***

 

“Krem?”

“Chief?”

“Why are you getting packages from Tevinter?”

Krem stretched his tunic clad shoulders, rolled them for good measure and just for showing off really, the new undershirt - supple nug leather and softest linen - stretching over his skin, before he answered.

“Birthday present.”

“Your birthday was 8 months ago.”

“Traveltime, chief.” Teasing the Bull with his natural suspicion and his curiosity would forever be one of Krem's favorite pasttimes.  

“What did you get?”

“Clothing.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: No, Dorian has absolutely no problem with Krem's gender. He´s friends with Maevaris, hot damn.  
> It´s probably rather that Krem doesn´t really understand Dorian's predicament because Dorian is so private and closed off about his sexuality and background.´
> 
> In the game there is a book by Brother Genitivi about sexuality in Thedas btw. Very enlightening.
> 
> Those last two parts fall under: it just happened. I have no idea.


End file.
